by Stacey Keith
The more he tried to convince himself it was nothing, the faster he hurried through the courtyard and then through the back door into the kitchen. Ruth was already waiting there, her trademark pink cardigan draped primly over her shoulders and her dreaded tablet in hand. His schedule for the next hundred years was on that tablet. He’d developed a healthy fear of the thing. Ruth presided over it like the Air Force drill sergeant’s daughter she was, right down to “Hooah,” which was short for “Heard, Understood, and Acknowledged.”
“Your mother’s here,” she said, skipping her customary greeting.
“I know. I just saw her car.”
“I asked her what was wrong but she won’t tell me.”
Of course, coming from Ruth Lindbergh-Evans, a question like that probably sounded more like a death threat, but Mason knew she meant well. He tossed his keys and his gym bag onto the kitchen island and started toward the main part of the house.
“She’s in the living room,” Ruth called to him. “When you’re done, we need to go over your schedule for the next few—”
But Mason was already past the formal dining area and the doors leading to the media room that he loved, with its red plush theater seats and old movie posters. He found his mother exactly where he expected her to be, pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling retractable windows. The windows, which stayed open most of the year, overlooked the pool that circulated like glowing liquid turquoise inside a ring of natural rocks. His mother turned when she heard his footsteps, and he instantly read the worry on her face.
“Where have you been?” she asked him. “I know I should have called you directly, but I didn’t really think it was an emergency until now, and—”
“My fault,” he said. “I told Ruth to hold my messages until I got back. What’s going on?”
His mother sank onto the sectional, graceful even in distress. Her dark hair lay in soft waves around her face. The simple linen dress made her look far younger than her fifty-two years. Mason had a sudden feeling that he didn’t know what to say to his mother anymore, not after her separation from Dad. There was this tightness in his shoulders that he got when talking to either one of them. He sat heavily on the sectional. Then he grabbed one of his grip-strengthening stress balls off the coffee table and started crushing it in his right hand.
“Your father’s been missing for the better part of a week,” she said. “He didn’t leave word where he was going and won’t answer his phone. If he even has his phone.”
Mason’s hand went slack. “Do Kate and Shari know about this?” He pictured both his sisters screaming at everyone within earshot. No one in his family handled stress well. “Did you call the police?”
“At first, I thought maybe he’d gone fishing. I even drove up to your fishing cabin.”
“Did it look like anyone was staying there?” he asked.
“Hard to tell. The beds were made, the dishwasher was empty. But you know how your father likes to keep things.”
Mason plunged one hand through his hair. He could feel his temples throbbing. “Who else knows he’s MIA?”
“I haven’t told your sisters yet. The only reason I know he’s missing is because…” She hung her head. “He hasn’t signed the divorce papers. And I just thought that maybe if I talked to him, you know. Told him it was all for the best…”
Mason sprang off the couch and stalked over to the pool. He felt sick. Guilty. Responsible. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, he thought.
We were supposed to be happy.
“Do you think this is a police matter?” she asked him. She sounded so forlorn, as though she were asking him to guide her, like a child.
“Yes,” he said heavily. “I’ve got a friend down at the central precinct. He can help us get things rolling. I’m going to have Ruth call him now.” He started to yell for her, but remembered that the distance was too far and used the intercom instead. Ruth appeared suspiciously fast, as though she’d been listening.
He gave her quick, precise instructions, knowing she’d follow them. After Ruth left, he turned back to his mother.
“Next time, make sure Ruth knows it’s an emergency, okay?” he said. “Let’s not wait this long again.”
“I didn’t know whether it was right to bother you. Until today, I wasn’t even sure there was anything to bother you about.” His mother stared at her own pale hands, folded tightly in her lap, as though they held the answers she was looking for. “You were gone on business.”
“I went to Cuervo,” he said with a glimmer of remembered happiness.
“Cuervo?” she repeated, frowning. “Why on earth would you go there?”
He couldn’t tell her about Cassidy. Not now. Not with their minds full of imagined horror. He fell silent.
“Do you think Mick’s okay?” she asked meekly. “It is possible that he’s angry with me. Or maybe he went off to Vegas again.”
Mason pushed against the tentacles of fear that kept threatening to drag him under. Even if his father wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere, taking off like this meant trouble. If he knew his dad at all, it was probably something Mick was too proud to ask for help with, like the bar. In fact, his dad’s last trip to Vegas had been a pull-out-all-stops attempt to save the thing. And hell, Vegas was the best case scenario.
His mother looked so miserable. Mason slid in next to her on the couch and pulled her close. He kissed the top of her head, which always smelled like Aqua Net. The fragrance brought back his childhood with a rush. He remembered better times, times in Cuervo even, when she and his sisters turned on the radio and danced outside in the sprinklers. He remembered her staying up all night with Kate when she had whooping cough, singing to her in the same lovely voice she had once used to make her living.
“Try not to worry, Mom,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m here now. I’ll take care of everything, I promise.”
Chapter Nine
The bell that hung above the door of Sweet Dreams tinkled brightly when Cassidy walked into the bakery with a bag full of Lexie’s school supplies. Maggie glanced up from polishing a lipstick red café table and gave her a wink. Lexie sat at another table, absorbed in finishing her homework.
The wink made Cassidy feel even more disreputable and guilty for going on this date with Mason. As she tended to do when she felt guilty, she ran one hand through her hair and then flipped it over her shoulder like something she could put behind her. All mixed up with that guilt was another even guiltier awareness that everything inside her vibrated with nervous excitement about seeing him. She’d even caught herself singing Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” this morning.
“So, are you ready?” Maggie asked her.
“No.” Cassidy looked down at her pink gingham sundress and wished she had money for clothes. Then she felt bad for even having such an ungrateful thought.
Maggie stuck a pink gerbera daisy in a cut glass vase. She set the vase on the table and tilted her head. “He’s picking you up at six, right?”
“You’re talking about Mr. Mason again, aren’t you?” Lexie said. “That’s all anybody talks about.”
“This is Cuervo, honey,” Maggie told her. “Once we finish with the weather, that’s pretty much all we’ve got.”
“Where’s he taking you, Mom?” Lexie asked.
Cassidy started to reach for her hair again, but forced herself to stop. “You two ask a lot of questions.” She plunked down the shopping bag full of school supplies on the chair opposite Lexie. “Good thing for me then that you have a Texas history project due tomorrow.”
Lexie let her head hit the table.
“What project?” Maggie asked, poking around in the bag. “I loved Texas history.”
“Well, you can make the cardboard Alamo,” Lexie grumbled.
“Sorry to dump this on you,” Cassidy said to Maggie. “I only f
ound out about it this morning.”
“Ain’t no big thing.” Maggie pulled Elmer’s glue, felt tip markers and rectangles of colored construction paper out of the bag and placed them on the table. “If I can make lasagna out of white bread and ketchup, building the Alamo should be a snap.”
Lexie raised her head up. “Can you really make lasagna out of white bread and ketchup?”
Maggie gave her ponytail an affectionate tug. “Do your homework, Squirt. And say goodbye to your mom. She’s going to be late if she doesn’t hightail it out of here.”
Cassidy felt Lexie’s arms wrap around her waist and reached down with more than her usual tenderness to stroke her daughter’s hair. More guilt stirred for all the things Lexie needed that she couldn’t provide—and dating seemed like one more penny taken out of the piggybank. Then she thought of Mason flying into Victoria Regional to see her, of the commotion he was probably causing right now at the airport and the car rental counter. She remembered what his face felt like when there was just a little bit of stubble, the smell of his skin, his aftershave, how they wound through her senses like a slow, drugging heat.
“I guess I’d better go then,” she murmured. But a part of her didn’t want to go. A part of her wanted to stay right here where she felt safe and warm and the smells of icing and cake batter reminded her of simpler times. Maggie was right about Mason, of course. What were the chances that things with him would end well?
Maggie followed her outside. “For the love of God, stop beating yourself up. I can hear the punching.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t do this,” Cassidy said. “What if it’s not fair to Lexie?”
“Not fair to Lexie?” Maggie put her hands on her hips, which made Cassidy cringe a little since it always meant war. “That’s a convenient excuse.”
“I thought you didn’t want me dating Mason.”
“Did I ever say that? What I want you to do is date somebody who treats you well. Mom says she has one of her ‘voodoo hunches’ about the guy, and if that’s true, I’m all for it. But I just want you to remember what happened last time and protect yourself.”
Cassidy nodded.
“Also, don’t get pregnant.”
Heat started at the roots of Cassidy’s hair and swept the rest of her in waves. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
Maggie grinned. “No filter. Ask Mom.”
Cassidy rolled her bike off the wall where she’d left it and braced one foot on the pedal. “Thanks for looking after Lexie tonight. If you need anything—”
“I’ve got it handled. Go enjoy yourself. For a change.”
Enjoy yourself. Cassidy pushed off in the direction of home and wondered what the acceptable limits were for enjoying yourself. It always felt as though someone were keeping tally and that exceeding your proper amount got you punished.
Martin Strom from the grocery store waved to her from his car and she waved back, letting the bike coast for the remaining two blocks to her house. Maybe, just maybe, ten years was enough time to make amends. Maybe it was okay to date again.
Cassidy rounded the corner and saw a white Ford Escape parked in front of her house. It must be Mason’s rental, she thought excitedly. How on earth did he get here so fast? Her heart gave a wild flutter when she spotted him on the porch, his back turned to her, peering through the front windows.
“Hey!” She hopped off her bike and rested it against the giant sycamore in her front yard.
“Hey, Cassidy,” came an unfamiliar voice.
The man on the porch turned, and she froze, speechless.
It was Parker Nolen.
* * * *
“What are you doing here?” Cassidy stammered.
She saw immediately how well Parker looked, handsome in the same athletic way Mason was. His dark hair was a little longer, perhaps, and feathered back, which suited his full lips and sculpted chin. He wore a charcoal-gray suit that looked out of place on her paint-peeled country porch, yet he was every inch the good-looking young jock all the girls had swooned over in high school. Right now, the only swooning Cassidy was doing felt like fear.
“Been meaning to drop by… well, for a while now,” Parker said. “But today was sort of a spur of the moment thing.”
Cassidy stood rooted to the walkway. She opened her mouth but shut it again when no sound came out. Mason would be here soon. He would drive up and see this mess and she wouldn’t be able to say anything or explain it or even apologize. Then it occurred to her who’d put Parker up to this.
Kayla.
“You look great,” he said with a wistfulness that made her mentally shrink away from him. “Guess it’s a good thing Lexie took after you, right?”
Parker smiled down at her from the porch, giving her the full force of his predatory charm. In the window behind him, Muffins leaped up and bristled at the new intruder. She could see his tail twitching.
“You should have called,” she said, knowing how ungracious it sounded. “Lexie’s not here.”
“That’s okay. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
He wants custody, she thought. He’s taking me to court. Her hands trembled uncontrollably. With ferocious effort, she clenched them to make it stop. Having a social worker for a sister meant that Cassidy knew every awful story about unwed mothers in the court system. Most of the judges mean well, April said once, but the system is medieval, and all the court cares about is one mom and one dad—even if that dad isn’t very good.
“Can I ask you for a glass of iced tea?” Parker asked. “It’s been a long drive.”
Cassidy wished she could invent an excuse not to let him in, but her brain was just as frozen as the rest of her. “Okay,” she said. “But I don’t have a lot of time.”
She brushed past him and opened the door, the key almost dropping from her fingers. Muffins stalked ahead of her to the kitchen. He meowed while she shook dry kibble into his bowl. Then she went to the refrigerator and took out a pitcher of sun tea, cracked a tray of ice and dropped the cubes into a glass. Parker sat at the table, watching her.
Cassidy brought him the glass and took the chair across from him. It struck her as odd how anyone looking at them through the window would think they were an ordinary couple who had a house and a child together.
Parker sipped. “Good tea.”
“So what did you want to talk to me about?”
“How’s Lexie?”
Oh, so he was going to draw this out, she thought, make a conversation out of it. Parker always did hate answering questions. “Lexie’s fine.”
“How’s she doing in school?”
“As well as can be expected.”
He gazed over the lip of the glass, his narrow green eyes never leaving her face. “Did you hear about my promotion?”
Cassidy jumped when she heard a noise outside, but it was just Mrs. Felps steering her Lincoln up the driveway.
“I’m VP of sales now,” he said, clearly expecting her to congratulate him. “My region is protected, so there’s nobody poaching my turf. Making pretty good bank these days.”
She looked down at her five-year-old sundress and quashed another flare of resentment.
Parker set the glass on the table and turned it around and around in his fingers. “So listen, I was thinking it would be fun if I took you and Lexie to Disney World over Thanksgiving break.”
Did that mean he wasn’t angling for custody? Hope gave a timid flutter. But then his suggestion fully hit her and she wondered if she’d misunderstood. “You want me and Lexie to go to Disney World with you.”
He laughed nervously. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Lexie doesn’t know you. I don’t even know you.”
“Well, I’d like to change that.”
He said it like a man who had been deeply wronged, not a man w
ith a thousand sins to atone for. Disney World was for families, she wanted to scream. Did he really think going there together would fix anything? She saw all too clearly Kayla’s hand in this. You’re about to lose any chance you had with her, she’d probably told him. Do something before it’s too late.
The phone rang in Grams’ study. When Cassidy stood up, the muscles in her legs shook. “Please excuse me,” she said, feeling him stare at her as she walked out of the room.
The study was cool and dark and already a better place to be because Parker wasn’t in it. She picked up the heavy old receiver, thinking it was Maggie calling about Lexie’s Alamo project. Instead, she heard Mason’s deep sexy voice, which puzzled her because he was supposed to be here, taking her on a date. Renewing her faith in men.
“I’ve been calling since forever,” he said.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, Cass, but there’s no way I can make it to Cuervo.”
* * * *
Something was wrong, way wrong, Mason realized, apart from the fact that Cassidy probably hated him for bailing on their date. As he stood in the courtyard with his phone pressed to one ear, he listened harder, trying to decode the tension in her voice.
“I’m really sorry about this, Cass,” he said, keeping an eye out for the police detectives who were on their way. “It’s a family thing. I’ll explain everything when I see you, just not right now. Look, is everything okay over there? You’re not pissed at me for—”
“Everything’s fine, Mason. Really.”
He could tell she was lying. And despite the stress of having no idea where his father was, of running on no food and no sleep, Mason found himself wondering what she was hiding.
“I’ll be damned. Is that Mason Hannigan on the phone?” someone with a decidedly male voice asked in the background.
Mason felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Since when did Cassidy let men inside her house? And he had a strong suspicion it wasn’t somebody she happened to be related to.
He’d only made it as far as the goddamn porch and hell, he and Cassidy were dating.
